


words

by elusetta



Series: pass the au(x) cord [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elusetta/pseuds/elusetta
Summary: Three times she didn't ask and one time she didn't have to.
Relationships: Leliana/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Leliana/Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: pass the au(x) cord [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837288
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	words

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to "dandelion wine", but it can be read independently (though there will be a few missed references). Hope you enjoy!

**first**

It’s a dark night, the wind singing and turning Iseult’s nose to ice. Alistair is already asleep, has been for a while now, tired from a day of roughhousing with the dog (who’s starting to gray at the muzzle, but still has enough energy to tire out anyone), and it is only her and Leliana, Iseult strumming a nonsense tune on the old guitar they’d found in the closet, Leliana murmuring along with it. 

The moon isn’t as bright as it was three years ago, but by this point Iseult doesn’t need it to see Leliana’s face. She has memorized it with tongue, with lips, with hands, with eyes, until her heart is a cameo, grown into the shape of itself. It is for that reason that she knows when Leliana gives a shiver— not the first, or the second time; she always tries to weather those, as though she hopes the cold will go away if she simply waits long enough— that it is time to put down the guitar, go inside and light the fireplace.

They’re a while away from the cabin, having found a picturesque little wooded glade that looks over the lake. Iseult strips off her flannel and offers it to Leliana, who accepts it with a soft thanks _._ Past the point of knowing one another, they have settled into the comfortable domesticity of knowing that the other knows them. The walk is quiet and short and cold nips at Iseult’s jeans, wet where she’s been sitting in the grass. 

There’s a weight in her back pocket.

They cross the threshold together, and Iseult shudders, her body grown accustomed to the chill outside. She leans the guitar against a wall. “Will you—”

The fire lights with a start, and Iseult smiles. It’s small, will take time to grow, but a warmth blooms in her chest regardless. Leliana looks up at her, silhouetted in the luminescence, and Iseult could burst with adoration. It’s a simple movement. Leliana is not a legend; she is a woman, _Iseult’s_ woman, and that is somehow even more incredible.

Iseult could kneel now, speak the words that are docked in her and ready to sail, ready to bear her away into a new adventure. She could profess everything and yet— it isn’t right. The magic in the air is warm, understated, not what she needs it to be. 

(Leliana would accept her anywhere, anytime, she knows. But she feels like she owes her something more.)

Neither of them are tired, exactly, and there’s a particular curve to Leliana’s smile which suggests she wants something. When she stands, straightening her back from lighting the fire, Iseult wraps her in an embrace from behind, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. “Still cold, princess?”

She is; her skin is cool against Iseult’s lips. “Maybe,” she says in a voice barely more than a whisper. “Why don’t you warm me up?”

Iseult bites her lightly on the neck before backing away. Their eyes meet, flashing, wanting, but the tension in the room snaps when Leliana takes off in a sprint up the stairs, silently daring Iseult to race her. Iseult laughs and follows.

**second**

When Iseult wakes, the first thing she sees is the light which plays patterns across Leliana’s skin, refracted through the window above the bed and falling upon her like small, incandescent leaves. Orange hair, burnished gold under the sun, scatters across her shoulders, freckled and bare and marked with kisses. 

Iseult lets out a soft sigh. The moment rhymes with the night of myths and stars three years ago, and in all that time Leliana has only become more beautiful. Aphrodite, yes, but it is a disservice (no, an outright lie) to only call her beautiful. She is Hera and Hecate, Artemis and Athena, and hers is the celestial body which holds every star, every story the ancients whispered in soft tones to each other when all seemed lost.

She presses a feather-light, reverent kiss to Leliana’s shoulder, tracing a constellation into her freckles with the movement of her lips. Leliana stirs and stretches out her arms, turning over and fixing Iseult with those blue eyes still hazy with sleep, her face radiant.

Iseult leans forward and seals their lips together for a soft moment, stroking Leliana’s cheek with her thumb, before pulling away. Leliana sighs at the loss, but Iseult just smiles, sitting up and slipping on a shirt. “Stay there, Aphrodite. I’m going to make breakfast.”

Leliana makes a pleased, sleepy noise. “I love you.”

Iseult laughs, though it’s more like a whisper, and gets up, making sure to close the door gently behind her. The house is quiet enough for early-morning birdsong to seep in, a few hardworking crickets still chirping from the night before, but there is sound from below; the hiss of a coffee pot, the whuffing of Cheese, a bit of soft, off-key humming from the kitchen.

She and Alistair are attuned to one another in ways that some would call supernatural, so it does not surprise her when he’s already waiting, smirk firmly in place. “Well?” he says, picking up her hand and examining it.

She sighs, taking her hand away. “Not yet.”

He wags a finger at her, but he’s not really serious; he rarely is these days. “You said you’d ask last night. Are you having second thoughts or something?” There’s worry flickering under the surface of his voice, and Iseult shakes her head in reassurance, opening the fridge to pick out the ingredients she needs.

“Of course I’m not having second thoughts, Alistair. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me—”

“ _Hey!_ ”

She rolls her eyes, stifling a giggle. “And it’s been three years and I _will_ do it. It just… I haven’t had the moment yet. It needs to be perfect. I lost track of time last night, and then we came in and she was tired and so was I…” She lets out a sigh, focusing in on the bowl, cracking an egg into the pancake mix and beginning to whisk. “Maybe tonight.”

The scent of coffee fills the room as the steam begins to escape the pot, rich and heavy. Alistair pours two cups, sliding Iseult’s to her without anything added before beginning the long process of making his as sweet as humanly possible. “You know, I’m not saying that you _shouldn’t,_ but…” He trails off.

Iseult doesn’t pause, adding the buttermilk. “I’m sure about this, Alistair. I’m more sure about this than I have been about anything in a long time.” The batter is well-mixed, and when she looks back at him it’s with confidence. “And before you ask, you’re still my best friend. You always will be. This doesn’t change anything.”

He looks quietly relieved. He’d never ask, but she knows him well enough to understand that it’s something he fears— something they both fear, isolation from the other. “I mean, you are getting married. It’s sort of considered a big change, Sei.”

“I’m getting _engaged,_ ” she corrects, lighting the griddle. “The wedding—”

Alistair suddenly shushes her, and she falls silent, her attention returning to the pancakes. “Good morning, Leliana,” he says in a voice that’s hysterically over-innocent, no doubt batting his eyelashes at her. Iseult snorts and begins to spoon the batter onto the griddle. “Did you sleep well?”

“Why, thank you for asking, Alistair!” she says, spinning his over-acting into a rapport that’s become easy between them over the past years. “Perfectly well, and you?”

“Oh, you know. Dreamed about dragons again.” He puts a mug of coffee into Leliana’s waiting fingers. Iseult flips a pancake. “Did you have any dreams?”

“Not of the sleeping sort,” Leliana says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Is she blushing? She’s looking at Iseult with a sort of anticipation, something Alistair keys into. 

He winks at Iseult, hopping off of the stool he’s sitting on and whistling for Cheese. “Call me back in when the pancakes are done?”

She sighs. He’s trying to get her to ask again, but now isn’t right, either. And knowing him, he’ll get caught up in playing with the dog and forget to eat entirely. The first pancake is done, so she pulls it off the griddle with the spatula and throws it to him. If he were anyone else, it might have gone on the side of his face (Iseult’s aim is hardly good), but being Alistair, he catches it in his mouth and gives her a thumbs-up before heading out the door, Cheese on his heels.

Tension bunches between Iseult’s shoulders. She could ask now; she could, and she wouldn’t be rejected, but this gentle morning is not the time. She needs moonlight, silvered on Leliana’s skin, weaving white lines into her hair just as age will someday. She glances at Leliana. Teasing, but not pushing. Leliana won’t push her, not to do this.

Instead, Leliana takes a sip of the coffee and winces when it’s too hot, then nods to the pancakes. “Are you going to put chocolate chips in those? I’m asking for a friend.”

**third**

Iseult strums the guitar.

“No, keep these fingers apart,” Alistair corrects easily, adjusting the position of her hand. “It’ll help. Other than that, you’re doing nicely.”

Iseult strums again, keeping her hand in the new position, and Alistair makes a few more changes.

Leliana giggles, leaned against the wooden pillar of the fence. “Mon amour, I would think you’d be better at fingering!”

Alistair and Iseult both make disgusted noises, and Leliana raises her hands innocently. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry.”

Alistair takes the guitar, forgoing teaching in favor of demonstration, but Iseult is happy just to listen. She had taken up the discipline mostly to have something to bond over with Alistair, and though the instrument has its charms she is more taken with hearing him play; he’d begun to study two years ago and has made an inspiring amount of progress since.

He loses track of what he was doing once the instrument is back in his hands, and softly begins to form a melody; first a few simple chords, slowly growing note by note into a gentle, waltzing song.

Iseult pulls Leliana into her arms, settling a hand on her waist. “Dance with me?” The words she needs to say, needs to say _soon_ are settled waiting on the back of her tongue, but she doesn’t let them out. The moment is beautiful, magical, sparkling with promise, and yet she still can’t voice those words. 

Leliana smiles, interlacing their fingers and pulling Iseult into something that approximates a waltz. They’re hardly dancing; it’s more like swaying. With Leliana so close, so warm, she can’t complain.

“He’s good with that,” Leliana comments. She contemplates a moment before murmuring a follow-up conspiratorially to Iseult: “He’s handsome, kind, funny and good with a guitar. It shocks me that that boy hasn’t fallen head over heels for him yet.”

Iseult chuckles. “By _‘that boy’,_ do you mean Carver?”

“I can hear you, you know,” Alistair says. Iseult looks over at him with a smirk, and Leliana blows him a kiss. He’s blushing like mad. “ _Maybe_ I just haven’t asked him yet.”

Iseult raises her eyebrows in silent amusement. “Well, maybe you should, Alistair.”

“Yeah, Iseult,” he says, locking eyes with her in a clear challenge. “You know, maybe I should.”

**fourth**

It’s later that night and they’re alone. Alistair’s words keep ringing and she recites the speech in her head: _We met three years ago, and you have made me the happiest woman alive._ That is how she is meant to start.

Under the stars and moon, under those ancient sapphic symbols, she finds a well of courage. “Leliana…”

Her girlfriend turns to her and all the breath goes out of her at once. She wants this, she knows, but it’s all wrapped up in worry and she knows Leliana won’t reject her but _what if she does?_ What if her trying to make this family something of the law is— wrong? What if it’s too much, too fast? “What is it, mon amour?” Leliana asks softly. She can sense the tension bunched in Iseult’s body. They know each other as well as (sometimes better than) they know themselves.

 _Marry me._ “I— I love you,” Iseult manages. True, but not what she wanted to say, not what she needed _so desperately_ to say.  
  
Leliana looks at her through eyes narrow with thought, and she comes closer, pressing their foreheads together. Iseult’s breath hikes. “You know my answer already.”  
  
With a rush of relief, Iseult realizes that she’s heard the words she didn’t say. “I don’t know why I can’t say it.”  
  
“You don’t have to,” Leliana says, and carefully, deliberately, she shifts herself to one knee. “Iseult Cousland, I have been in love with you since the night we first arrived here—”  
  
Iseult can’t hold herself back, tackling Leliana and pulling her into a deep, long kiss, reaching for the ring in her back pocket. They’re on the ground and she doesn’t care, Leliana is flushed and breathless under her, and the moment could not be more perfect. When she breaks away, her cheeks flushed with life, she gets the words out for the first time: “Leliana, my Aphrodite, let me ask.”  
  
Leliana’s arms, slender and strong, come to rest around Iseult’s waist. Her hair is scattered on the grass, her eyes shining under the moon, and oh, Iseult could drown in her. “Ask me, mon coeur.”  
  
When it finally comes out it is in a whisper against Leliana’s lips, a secret between lovers. “My Aphrodite, my princess, my beautiful, beautiful girl.” She leans down, kissing her again, and when she has to come up for air Leliana is blushing and the air around them sparkles with the night’s stars and now, now, _now_ is the moment. “Marry me.”  
  
“Oh, ma cherie,” Leliana says softly, smile wide and radiant with happiness. “Did you ever have a doubt I would say yes?”


End file.
